Blood Writing
by AlphaKantSpell
Summary: Cullen's never asked about her vallaslin but there was an open curiosity in his eyes as he traced her cheek. (PwP about new lovers exploring each other)


Blood Writing

In the cold air, Cullen gathered the sheets and bundled close to Pol. Her arms came around to trace his ribs. Their noses were pink from the cold, faces flushed. Cullen was still in a daze, his body thrumming hot and exhausted but _aching_ for her again. He knew lust all his life, protected himself against it but _this_ with _her_ – he couldn't help but feel blessed by the Maker himself every time his skin touched hers. A current ran through them both, keeping him warm despite the draft.

He felt it coursing through his blood. Almost painful when she bit his ear, sucking it but he never wanted it to stop. His hands came down over her face, thumbs tracing pointed cheekbones as his lips mapped the raised tattoos of her face. In the shallow light of the room he could hardly see them but he's studied her face so often he could depict her in perfect detail. Pol smiled. He felt it on his fingers. At once he was weightless and gutted. She'd chosen him. _Him_. Maker take him if he ever gave less than his full commitment to her.

"They stand for the Hearth-Keeper."

His hands pulled back. When her eyes opened he offered a sheepish expression. Her eyes were such a sharp shade of green they might as well be from fade fire.

"I wasn't going to ask."

"I know," she said and closed her eyes. She nodded her head and Cullen got the impression he was supposed to continue his ministrations. "You were curious. I'm the last person in Thedas who'll persecute you for curiosity."

Cullen made a noise in his throat. Pol's curiosity for the world spilled into a novel collection that rivaled any bookstore. He had to keep reminded himself she wasn't raised in a Circle. Rarely was it that anyone else took such interest in old volumes and Pol thirsted for knowledge like she'd been lost to the Hissing Wastes. If it came to it, Cullen had little doubt Pol would rescue her books from a fire and expect him to find his own way from the flames. It was his own fault for putting on such a brace face to her. Pol thought him capable of the world. To be fair he thought the same of her.

Pol nipped at his ear again and Cullen groaned, loud and long. She was grinning as she kissed him. Cullen angled her hips and thrust in again, skin singing in _joy_, his breath a plea. Her eyes fell closed, her brows pinched from all the sensation. Without any hair to cling to, Cullen's hands went to her ears, drawing a climax that struck like fire and had her bowing against him. Elves and their ears; she was so sensitive he'd hardly had to touch her. And it didn't stop at that. She glowed. _They_ glowed, enveloped by a barrier kissed by frost. No wonder so many templars slept with their charges. Sex with a mage was unbelievable.

His hands fell down to the swell of her small breasts. He could engulf each in a hand and did, stroking her as she came back to herself.

"Did that on purpose," he made out between her slurred, elfin words. Cullen's laugh was rich and heady as he began thrusting again. Pol made a sound of discontent but her eyes flashed dangerously when he stopped to assess her.

"Hearth Keeper, eh? A member of your Pantheon?"

Pol made another sound he extended by angling his thrust. Her legs wrapped around him so tight her ankles clipped together. When she kissed him, a prayer was at his lips.

"You really want to discuss religion while you're cock deep inside me?"

He smirked at that. "If I had to, I could work on my report while making love to you."

Her laughter turned into a moan with his touch and Cullen couldn't help but grin. He pulled that from her. No one else. No one in the Inquisition got to see the Inquisitor like this and it spurred a warm, lion's weight of pride in him.

All it cost was never being able to work at his desk again without thinking of this, of her, open and waiting for him.

"I don't know whether to be insulted or impressed."

"Try impressed. It would certainly make work more enjoyable."

"Oh?" her neck craned as he snuck close to suck her pulse point. "Finding your work with the Inquisition to be unsatisfying?"

"No. It is remarkable." He thrust deep, calling a moan like a scream from Pol. For a wild moment he tensed, worried about being seen and what it could do to his carrier or how it would endanger her. If Meredith found out. . .Then Pol moved and he came back to himself from the fragment of the past he'd been caught in. The relief sent him spilling into climax and he was – _oh_. _Oh_. He was – thrusting his seed into her _deep_.

Pol made the most beautiful noise. A second barrier came to life around them. They were together. She was home with him and they were –

Foolish tears prickled at the corners of his eyes and Cullen had nowhere to hide. He dropped his head against her shoulder, hoping she'd think it was hot sweat. Pol didn't say a word. She grasped his cheeks and traced them like he had done for her earlier. She kissed his tears away and their foreheads met, their bodies still tied.

His lips chased after her thumb. She squeezed around him once more before releasing him. Cullen pulled out and already he wanted to be buried in her again but sleep came upon him like a spell. Caught in her arms, head pillowed on her chest, he worried about his weight on her slight form but she hushed him.

"I like having you here. You're real."

He understood the satisfaction in that all too well. He'd found it in her, after all. She was his grounding force, a solid trust he could see in touch. She was his tether to the world and he hers.

With that thought in his mind, Cullen quickly found sleep.


End file.
